


Small Comforts

by kfantastique



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Matt Murdock Angst, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Team Red, Touch-Starved Matt Murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kfantastique/pseuds/kfantastique
Summary: Matt is finally allowing himself some physical comfort from his friends and Foggy is so relieved. The friends are confused that Daredevil apparently likes cuddling?? Foggy thinks it's hilarious and adorable but he been knew.I'm bad at summaries?





	1. Foggy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends. I've been silently perusing the Daredevil fandom for ages now and finally decided to write something. Cause I miss them. I hope you enjoy!

Foggy hadn’t become aware that Matt was a cuddler until their final year of law school. Up until then, Matt had almost never initiated any touching during their friendship unless he was drunk. And he hadn’t even started that until after Christmas break of L1. Foggy just figured that he had a thing about touching and accepted it.

That is, until after Elektra. Foggy figures now that after Matt and Elektra broke up, the poor guy was so low that he was ready to just lay all his weaknesses bare. He was too tired to keep pretending to be strong.

Foggy had been heartbroken that first night he found Matt alone in their dorm curled into a ball on his bed and crying silently. He’d rushed over and gently put a hand on Matt’s shoulder and asked if he needed anything. Matt shuddered and, for a moment, Foggy expected him to say no. Like he always did.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he mumbled miserably and Foggy almost cried.

“Matty, it’s okay to ask for something you need,” he said gently and rubbed Matt’s shoulder.

Matt let out a stuttering breath. “Could you… can I have a hug? Please?” he squeaked out. 

Foggy melted. “Yeah, buddy,” he sighed. “Come here.”

He sat on Matt’s bed and pulled the little ball of misery that was his best friend into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Matt cried himself to sleep against Foggy’s chest.

Since that night, Foggy had made sure to offer Matt hugs, fist bumps, back pats, anything he could think of as often as he could so Matt would know it was okay to want those things. To ask for them. And after a while, he did. 

Foggy liked to think that his cheerful persistence eventually broke down Matt’s walls of Catholic self denial or whatever and helped Matt to believe that he was deserving of physical affection if he wanted it. And it seemed that he did want it. A lot. He started hugging Foggy all the time. And holding his elbow when they walked together, and laying his head on Foggy’s shoulder when they listened to reruns of old tv shows, and straight-up full-body cuddling when he was hungover. It still made Foggy sad to think of what Matt was like those first couple years when he obviously took so much comfort from just touching someone else.


	2. Karen

After the Bullseye fiasco, Matt finally decided to let himself have physical contact again. Foggy was unbelievably relieved. Matt’d pulled away since Daredevil and Fisk and Elektra’s return and Midland Circle and shit. Poor Matt’s life was just one fucked up roller coaster after another, wasn’t it?

They were sitting on Karen’s couch together celebrating after a hard-won not guilty verdict in court that afternoon. Matt’s shoulder was pressed up against Foggy and he was running the fingers of his other hand through Karen’s hair, though he wasn’t touching her anywhere else.

Foggy sighed happily. It was progress; maybe Matt would allow Karen to comfort him too now. After they’d ‘broken up’ after not really dating at all, Foggy had thought maybe Matt would keep her at arm’s length. But maybe not.

Karen took a gulp of her whiskey. “Do you know how to braid?” she asked into the comfortable silence. 

Matt’s hand stilled and Foggy nudged him. “Not well,” Matt replied. 

Karen chuckled. “That’s okay,” she encouraged. “I’m not going to wear it out. I just like it when people play with my hair.” 

Foggy smiled fondly and nudged Matt again. “I’m going to pour another drink,” he announced and stood. “You guys want?” 

Karen held her glass in the air and batted her eyelashes at him. “Hell yeah!” 

Matt smirked at her enthusiasm. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks, Fogs.”

Foggy took their glasses to the kitchen as Karen turned her back to Matt and said, “Really, it doesn’t matter if it looks stupid. I just like how it feels.”

Foggy smiled fondly at his two best friends and set about mixing more cocktails. When he walked back into the living room with three precarious glasses, his heart about overflowed.

Matt’s foot was tucked underneath him and his bent leg smooshed up against the back of the couch so Karen, with neatly braided hair, could lean back against his chest. Matt’s arm was wrapped around her stomach and Karen’s arms were folded lightly over it. Foggy stood and watched them with a smile so wide it hurt his face.

Karen jerked her eyes away from the tv screen when she noticed him and blushed before saying, “Quit hogging all the liquor, Nelson.”

He laughed and set their drinks on the coffee table. “Needy, needy,” he muttered good naturedly before squishing himself up against Matt again who relaxed into him and chuckled with them.

Foggy threw his arm around Matt’s shoulders and rested his hand on Karen’s shoulder. He was beyond pleased that Matt could be comfortable with this cuddle pile. He deserved it. Really.

“I really love you guys, you know,” Foggy blurted and squeezed them both. They both laughed. 

“Me too,” Karen told him and reached up to pat his hand.

“I know, Fogs,” Matt said happily. “I know.”


	3. Jessica

Jessica was absolutely blasted out of her mind. She lifted her gaze from what was probably just one glass on the bar in front of her but what actually looked like three glasses swirling around each other to look at Murdock slouched over beside her.

“Hey,” she slurred and poked him in the side of the face.

He blinked slowly behind his glasses and turned to face her.

“No sleepin’ inna bar,” she told him.

“Wasn’,” he denied and swayed on his barstool.

She laughed at his sloshiness. “Pft, you’re drunk.”

Matt shook his head, laughed, and then nodded. “Maybe,” he confessed.

“Weshould probly go to bed,” she decided. “You wanna goto bed?”

Matt’s eyebrows scrunched together. “‘M not sure I can get up,” he said, “much less get it up.” He dissolved into giggles.

“Ugh,” Jessica groaned at him. “Thass so not what I meant.”

He grinned at her. “Iknow. Was funny though.”

She rolled her eyes and had to catch herself on the bar when her head followed them around in a circle. “C’mon,” she hoisted herself up, “wec’n help each other get up.”

She grabbed Matt’s arm and tugged him a little too forcefully to his feet. They stumbled backwards to land on her stool again in a heap.

Matt snickered. “Was that you helping?”

“Shut up, Murdock,” she huffed. “You couldn’a done any better.”

Matt shrugged and ceded the point before carefully pushing himself upright.

Somehow they stumbled their way back to Jessica’s apartment without sustaining any injuries with Matt’s arm thrown over Jessica’s shoulders (which he was very excited about being tall enough to do). She allowed it only because his extra weight was like nothing at all to her.

When she pushed the door open, Matt came up short and withdrew his arm. “You don’ havea couch,” he pointed out needlessly.

“So?” she asked raising a cutting yet useless eyebrow.

“I don’ wanna bother you,” he said. “I’ll jus geta cab.” He started to turn back around but she darted in front of him to close the door and only fell on it a little.

“Don’ be an idiot, Murdock,” she said. “We been friends long enough now to sharea bed.”

He blinked and slowly grinned at her. “Friends, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed and dragged him towards the bed.

Jessica woke up in the morning with a mouth that tasted like scum covered dirt and a mighty need to piss.

“Hey, Jess!” she heard Malcolm call from her office. Fucker must’ve woke her up.

She peeled her eyes open and went to sit up but was immediately impeded. “What the fuck?” she muttered as she registered another human pressed up against her back.

She looked down and recognized Murdock’s stupid feely watch on the arm slung around her middle. She lifted her head to check that they were indeed fully clothed and noticed his ankle caught around hers too.

“Hey,” she croaked and wiggled. “Get up, asshole.”

Matt’s arm tightened around her. “Uhng,” he groaned. “Five more minutes.”

She dropped her head back to the pillow and heaved a sigh.

“Jessic- oh.” Malcolm had poked his head into her bedroom.

Jessica squinted at him and snarled.

“Good morning, guys!” he said, entirely too chipper. Matt groaned again at the intrusion and stuck his nose into the back of Jessica’s neck.

“Just fuck off for, like, an hour,” she demanded. “I am entirely too hungover for your shit right now.” Matt made a pitiful noise of agreement. A camera shutter clicked and Jessica jerked her head up to glare at Malcolm again.

“Okay, okay!” he yelped and hid his phone behind his back. “I’m leaving! But I’ll be back soon. We have work to do today!”

Jessica sighed when the door shut and closed her eyes again. She decided she could ignore the baby opossum clinging to her back if she could sleep for another hour.

Foggy checked his phone after his shower that morning and was gifted with an image of Matt wrapped around Jessica Jones like a koala bear. It was adorable and he giggled like a child. Then he texted Jessica, “Aw, he likes you. Welcome to the fam!”

And he texted Matt, “How hungover are you today, snugglebug?”

He got a response from neither but wasn’t too worried about it. He was mostly just happy that Matt was making another actual friend. Even if she was a bad influence, she was still more help than harm when it came to his vigilante activities. And if she was willing to dole out some physical affection to his best buddy, well, that was another point in her favor.


	4. Luke & Danny

Jessica kicked in the roof access door to Matt’s apartment and stepped aside to let Luke by. He hurried through with a grumbling Matt in his arms and she shoved Danny in before slamming the door behind her and following them down the stairs.

“Set him on the couch,” she barked before making a bee-line to the kit under the kitchen sink. She ignored Matt’s indignant muttering and threw open the cupboard. Assholes who got themselves stabbed had no feet to stand on in arguments about their own first aid.

She jerked the over-large kit out and trotted back over to the living area where Luke was kneeling on the floor next to the couch with a restraining hand on Matt’s shoulder. Danny was pressing Jessica’s latest ruined wadded up scarf to the stab wound in Matt’s side and shaking his head while Matt tried to convince them he was fine.

“...could at least let me sit up!” the idiot argued and yanked off his helmet. “It’s not that bad; I can handle this fine on my own.” Jessica snorted in derision and shared a look with Luke. 

“You’re an idiot, Murdock,” was all she said though and nudged Danny out of the way to kneel down in front of the gaping wound in Matt’s side. 

Matt’s nostrils flared as he huffed his pointless disagreement. “Fuck off, Jones. It’s not even that bad.”

“There’s a huge hole in your side!” Danny yelped, slightly frantic at the same time that Luke groaned. 

Matt narrowed his eyes in Danny’s general direction. “It’s not huge,” he said tightly.

Jessica ignored him and peeled up the edge of the scarf. It wasn’t actually that big after all; though still sluggishly bleeding.

“Luke, help me with Murdock’s pajamas so I can clean this out some,” she directed. 

Luke nodded agreeably but Matt let out an indignant, “Hey!” 

She leveled a useless glare at him. “Stow it!” she snapped and Matt submitted with bad grace while they helped him out of the top half of his suit.

He ended up with his head resting on Luke’s thigh while Jessica swabbed, stitched, and wrapped his side and Danny paced nervously across the living room. Matt even unwound enough eventually that Jessica actually believed him when he told them that he could feel that none of his internal organs were punctured.

Danny fetched Matt some sweatpants while Jessica gathered up all the bloodied gauze and her ruined scarf to throw out and headed to the kitchen. She washed her hands and dabbed the blood off the sleeve of her leather jacket.

“Danny!” she heard Matt snap from the couch. “I can literally hear you fretting; it’s making me anxious. Just come here and sit down.”

Jessica smirked to herself and snagged a glass out of the cabinet to pour herself a whiskey. Danny was never as blasé as the rest of them were when someone was wounded. He tended to work himself up too much if left unchecked.

She poured three healthy fingers of whiskey that she wished was stronger before strolling back to the sitting area. Into the most hilariously domestic scene she’d ever witnessed.

Matt was still lying with his head in Luke’s lap and had apparently gotten Danny to sit on his other side so he could throw his legs over Danny’s lap. 

Danny looked a little bewildered at this development and like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Luke looked comfortably nonplussed. Jessica snorted and Matt flipped her off weakly.

Danny chuckled and tentatively rested one hand on Matt’s knee and his other arm on the back of the couch. Jessica threw herself into one of the armchairs and pulled out her phone to open the camera app.

“You guys are adorable,” she told them and held the phone up.

“Jess…” Luke sighed while Danny grinned and Matt tucked his chin to his chest and looked grumpy. Jessica huffed a laugh at them and sent the picture to Foggy and Karen.

Foggy woke up later that morning to a delightful picture of Matt cuddled up on his couch with a couple of Defenders. He smiled to himself and started mentally preparing the combo chastising/teasing speech he would inevitably give Matt later about getting himself hurt yet again. He was glad that Matt had started trusting some more people though. It was about time he let himself take a little of the comfort he desperately needed but rarely let anyone else see.


	5. Clint

Clint dragged Matt’s ass through the window of his apartment and then dumped him on the couch. What a fuckin’ day. The entire Russian mafia could eat his ass.

“It smells like wet dog in here,” Matt whined from where his face was pressed into the cushion.

Clint rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Yeah,” he agreed. “So you’ve said. Nothing I can do about it now.” He trudged over to the freezer to grab a bag of peas to press to his bruised jaw.

“It also smells like you haven’t taken your trash out today,” Matt informed him.

Clint rolled his eyes and grabbed the bag of corn to bring over to Matt. Matt had definitely gotten a mild concussion after being beamed with a two by four. Clint sat down and propped Matt up before unfastening his helmet. Matt winced and reached for the corn.

“Thanks,” he muttered and pressed the bag to the side of his head.

“You want some other clothes?” Clint offered as he stood and headed to his room.

“Nah,” Matt called. “I’ll be fine in a minute; then I’ll head home.”

Clint stuck his head back out the door and levelled Matt with a glare. “I want you to know that I am glaring with force at you right now because you are an idiot.” 

Matt cracked a grin and huffed. “Who’re you calling an idiot?” he asked. “I’m not the one fighting the Russian mob with a cracked rib.”

Clint made an offended noise (he was hoping Matt hadn’t noticed). “Whatever man,” he scoffed and headed into his closet to seek out clean clothes. “You have a concussion; you’re staying where I can keep an eye on you. End of discussion.”

Matt didn’t look especially opposed when Clint emerged with a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for him. And he hadn’t tried to climb out the window so Clint took that as acquiescence. He threw the clothes at Matt’s head and Matt caught them.

“See?” he said. “I’m not that bad.”

Clint chuckled and went to grab some water from the fridge. He plopped down next to Matt as he tugged the purple shirt over his head and held one out for him.

“So, you got about three hours of staying awake and alert ahead of you,” Clint said easily. “You wanna watch Dog Cops?”

“If I had a choice,” Matt told him through a laugh, “I would rather watch literally anything else.”

Clint laughed too and amended his question. “Do you wanna  _ listen _ to Dogs Cops?”

“Sure,” Matt replied amiably and slumped down on the couch. “Why not?”

Clint pulled his favorite show up on his DVR and settled in to a mini marathon. Once the first episode started, Matt leaned his head over to rest on Clint’s shoulder and Clint’s eyes widened in surprise but he made himself not react otherwise.

“You’re not gonna fall asleep already are you?” he asked.

“Nah,” Matt replied. “Just getting comfy.”

Huh. Clint never would have thought that Daredevil would want to get comfy on a couch with Hawkeye. It was kind of cute.

Through four more episodes, Clint struggled to stay awake and kept poking Matt to make sure he was awake too. He seemed to be though he progressively slouched into Clint until they were squished together with Matt’s head on this chest.

Clint blinked and his eyes opened to the end credits rolling. He barely had the cognizance to push pause before his eyes slipped closed again and he nodded off with Matt pressed against him.

Foggy received a text from an unsaved number at 10 AM on a Saturday while he was grocery shopping.

“Found the idiots,” it said, accompanied by a picture of Matt basically laying on top of Clint Barton while they slept on a ratty looking couch. The message was sent to a group chat with a bunch of numbers he didn’t recognize.

“Thanks Nat,” one replied before he could start typing a response. A small flurry of messages followed.

“Aw, I never thought those two prickly bastards could be so cute.”

“Omg! Look at these adorable old men!”

“Are they injured at all?”

“are hawkeye and dd cuddling????”

“No, they seem fine.”

Then a message came through from a number Foggy actually had saved. “They messing around with those Russian assholes again?” asked Sam Wilson.

Foggy sighed in relief. If Sam was in this group, chances were the rest of the numbers were other Avengers. Most of whom Foggy had actually met and all of whom were aware of Matt's identity already.

He opened a different message to just Sam. “Hey man, I don’t have any idea who the rest of those group chat numbers belong to. Also, should I be worried about Matt working with Clint?”

“Nah,” Sam replied immediately. “They’ll be fine. Plus I think Natasha has an alert set up somehow so she knows when Clint’s in over his head. And I’ll give you these and trust you to use them wisely.” Then Sam sent him a bunch of contacts all in a row.

Contact info: Steve Rogers

Foggy’s eyes boggled at Captain America’s phone number. Then more numbers came through: Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stank, Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, J. Rhodey, JB Barnes, Clint Barton.

When Foggy saved all the numbers and went back to the group, he was a little disconcerted at bearing witness to all the superhero banter.

NR: Found the idiots.

SR: Thanks Nat

TS: Aw, I never thought those two prickly bastards could be so cute

WM: Omg! Look at these adorable old men!

BB: Are they injured at all?

PP: are hawkeye and dd cuddling????

NR: No, they seem fine.

SW: They messing around with those Russian assholes again?

TS: I didn’t think DD was the cuddling type. Though birdbrain will sleep anywhere…

NR: Yeah. They actually did an ok job though. The Bratva will be licking its wounds for a while.

JB: Nice

The Bratva? Wow, Foggy was really glad Matt hadn’t been hurt. That was serious business. He had a feeling this group chat was going to give him ulcers.

FN: Hi everyone, this is Matt’s friend Foggy. Thanks for letting me know Matt’s ok and for checking up on him. I really appreciate it. Also, Matt is actually surprisingly cuddly once you get to know him.

PP: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NR: No problem

TS: Challenge accepted

SR: Tony, no

SW: :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write Frank into this but I can't make the Netflix canon Frank be cuddly... Any ideas?


	6. Peter and Wade

Wade set poor little Spidey gently down on the couch before giving in to his paranoia and rushing past Red to bolt the front door and check the windows for locks. He’d been to Red’s place before but with all the excitement, the boxes were fucking screaming at him to secure their location. He took the stairs two at a time to the roof access and spotted the broken lock on the door up there. The cacophony in his head rioted.

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?!” he roared at them as he rushed to grab one of the arm chairs in the living room to wedge against the door. He needed to make Spidey safe. Make it so no one could get to him.

“I wouldn’t know, Wade!” he heard from the living room below him as he jammed the chair against the door and started zip tying it to both the door handle and the railing

He finished and paused at the top of the stairs once the boxes calmed to a dull roar. “Was that a motherfucking blind joke, Red?” he demanded incredulously. Matt ignored him. Wade shook his head. “I wasn’t even talking to you,” he muttered as he bounded his way back downstairs.

Spidey was definitely having a full-blown panic attack now on Red’s couch. Wade crouched down on the floor at the end of the sofa as Pete wheezed and sobbed. He felt useless.

“Peter,” Matt said gently, “I’m going to take your mask off, okay?” Peter continued to sob. Wade clenched his hands into fists and tried to squash down the impotent rage clawing its way up his throat. He couldn’t pick a fight with Peter’s anxiety.

There had just been one small explosion. Hardly anything, really. At least not by Wade’s standards. The building structure hadn’t been in danger but it just happened to hit this one wall just right though. The one wall that Spidey was ducking behind with one of the women they were rescuing.

It was only one layer of cinder blocks thick, not nearly enough to do Spidey any real damage, not with his enhancements. But the wall came down on him and the woman and by some really shit luck, the woman was knocked unconscious and they were buried.

Wade had immediately drawn a gun and shot all the gangsters still standing while Red rushed to the pile of rubble. He’d be fucked if he stuck to his teammates’ enforced non-lethality when one of them was in danger.

When Wade made it over to the pile of blocks, Red was frantically digging through it. Wade wasn’t sure why he seemed so desperate to move all the blocks as quickly as possible until he could actually hear Peter’s whimpering. It hadn’t seemed like it should be too much for Spider-Man but maybe it had been. Wade dove into the pile and didn’t even breathe until Peter was freed from the mess.

Peter had been hyperventilating and kept trying to tell them he was sorry though he didn’t seem to be physically injured at all. He had a hold of the woman’s wrist but seemed too freaked out to tell that she still had a pulse. Matt had grabbed his face and had to tell him multiple times that the woman was still alive before he let go.

Wade couldn’t bare to keep watching and made an executive decision. He called the police and then scooped Peter up into his arms and started running towards Red’s place.

With Peter’s mask off, maybe he could breathe better, but Wade couldn’t really tell. He was still choking on sobs and tears were rolling down his face. The heart that Wade hadn’t been entirely sure he still had clenched in his chest.

“It’s okay,” Matt murmured next to him. “Peter, you’re safe here.” Wade wanted to say something too but his throat seemed to have closed up for the first time ever.

Then Matt took off his helmet and crawled onto the couch before hauling Peter into his lap. Wade was a little dumbfounded. Red wasn’t that big on being touched usually. But he wrapped Pete up in his arms and rocked him gently until the sobs subsided some.

Wade sat and watched and guarded his team until Peter fell asleep, still clutching Matt’s suit. When Wade got up to leave, Matt made a sound at him.

“What is it, Red?” Wade asked tiredly. “I’m not of any use here right now, I’m just gonna go.”

Matt turned his face up from where he’d been resting it against Peter’s curls to glare in Wade’s general direction. It didn’t have any heat in it though; he looked broken down. “Wade, can you just...” he whispered and then paused. “Stay? Please?”

Wade almost left then anyway. He was bad at dealing with feelings. But then he’d have feelings about dodging the feelings. Ugh.

“Ugh,” he said.

Matt smiled crookedly at him. “Come sit down.”

Wade looked at him skeptically for a second and then shrugged. His ass was numb from sitting on the floor anyway. Might as well be on the couch. He grumbled some about wasting time and planted himself on the couch, a cushion away from the bundle that was Matt and Peter.

Matt raised a sardonic eyebrow in his direction.

“What?” he asked, flat. “I’m sitting aren’t I?”

Matt rolled his eyes and then jerked his head as if to say, ‘Get over here, idiot.’

Wade heaved a put-upon sigh but was inwardly kinda pleased. He scooted down the couch until he was sitting right next to Red and reached a careful hand out to stroke some of Peter’s hair. The kid was out like a light. Wade knew from experience that panic was exhausting.

Then Wade froze up as Matt squirmed against him and practically nuzzled into him until Wade lifted his arm. What the hell was going on here? Wade was under the impression that Red didn’t like to be touched but here he was, cuddling. With Wade. Wade could definitely see the appeal of cuddling with Peter. The kid was adorable enough that anyone'd want to cuddle with him. But Wade? 

“Um, what’re you-”

“Shhh,” Matt interrupted him. “Chill out.”

Chill? Who wasn’t chill? Wade carefully relaxed his arm against the back of the couch and Matt sighed happily before resting his face on Wade’s pec. Huh. Well, okay then.

Foggy’s text tone pinged at around midnight with a message from an unsaved number. He put down the briefing he was reading and unlocked the phone to see what looked like a selfie of Deadpool. The angle wasn’t great, but it was definitely the side of Deadpool’s mask, Matt’s sleeping face pressed up against his chest, and a pile of brunet curls wearing the Spider-Man suit in Matt’s lap.

Another message pinged as he was absorbing all the cuteness. “What in the ass is happening here right now?” it read.

“Is this Wade?” he replied. “How did you get this number?”

“Fogs. 

“Foggy. 

“Franklin,” came the almost immediate reply. “I have my ways.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “It looks like cuddling is happening right now,” he sent back.

“But I thought Red didn’t like being touched?!”

That made Foggy kind of sad. “He actually really likes cuddling once he can get past his own mental block and trust you enough.” Foggy hit send and only then thought that might have been oversharing without asking Matt about it first. Oh well, too late now.

“Oh,” he got back.

Then, “Aw!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am working on a chap with Frank. It may take a minute but that'll probably wrap this up. Thanks for reading!


	7. Frank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to FeatherRising for softball lobbing me some ideas about this chapter! I really appreciated it!

Frank knew they were in deep shit when Red’s opponent sprayed him in the face with an aerosol canister. With all the heavy drugs that these assholes had been experimenting with, whatever it was could only be bad news.

His suspicions were confirmed when Red got sucker punched the first time. He shook it off like a champ but the hit never would have landed if he’d been on top of his game. They needed to scram.

Frank redoubled his attention on his two attackers and took one out with a crowbar. The second guy paused long enough for Frank to glance back at Red to see that he obviously wasn’t tracking the movements of his two opponents as well as he should’ve been. Red kept shaking his head as if to dislodge something while barely failing to dodge punches.

Frank growled and drew a knife from his boot and flung it in one fluid movement. Red wouldn’t like it but chances were, he wouldn’t even notice. Frank’s last attacker collapsed to the ground with a knife through his eye.

When Frank finally whirled around to help, Red was crumpled on the ground clutching his head while the assholes kicked him. Frank hefted his crowbar and ran over to take a home run swing.

The guy closest to him didn’t even see him coming and lifted an inch off the ground with the force of Frank’s swing before collapsing face first to the floor. The second guy was already reaching for the canister holstered on his hip when Frank turned on him but he was too slow. Frank winded him with a boot to the stomach, grabbed the canister, and put the guy’s lights out with a crowbar to the temple.

Then Frank knelt next to Red and touched his shoulder. Red flinched violently. His hands were clamped down over his helmet where his ears were. 

“Red?” he asked. Red flinched again. “Come on, man,” Frank whispered this time. “You gotta tell me you ain’t dying.”

Red dragged in a choked breath. “Frank,” he wheezed quietly, “they drugged me. I can’t…” his breath staggered. “There’s too much noise. I can’t block it out.” He cringed and tried to jam his hands tighter to his head.

It seemed pretty quiet in the storeroom to Frank but then again, Frank didn’t have enhanced senses. He huffed out a breath. It didn’t look like he was going to be tracking these drugs any further that night.

“Alright,” he said and took a hold of Red’s arm to help him up. Red flinched again and Frank resigned himself to whispering. “Can you get up?” he asked. “We gotta get out of here. Get you somewhere safe.”

“Somewhere quiet,” Red panted through clenched teeth.

Frank rolled his eyes and helped Red stand on wobbly feet. He had a safehouse in a basement not too far from where they were. They should be able to make it without incident.

It turned out that Red could not, in fact, even make it down the street. Frank never realized just how much Red could actually pick up on. Every time a car horn honked or a door slammed or a baby cried, Red would jerk and hunch his shoulders and press his arm against Frank’s and try to cover his ears tighter.

And the noise outbursts seemed to disrupt his spacial awareness or echolocation or whatever the fuck making him even more unsteady than whatever the drug was doing. After the fourth time Red tripped in one block, Frank took hold of his elbow and started to guide him like an actual blind person.

Red let himself be lead. He was panting and cringing at everything and gagged twice when they walked past alleys with dumpsters that Frank couldn’t even smell. It seemed to take forever to walk three blocks.

When they finally got to the door and Frank unlocked it, Red staunchly refused to let Frank call the elevator. So they stumbled down the decrepit stairs and Red almost cried anyway when Frank opened the heavy door to the basement and it squealed on its hinges.

Once they were inside, Red hunkered down on the mattress in the corner of the small room, yanked off his helmet and gloves, and stuffed his fingers inside his ears. Frank flipped the light switch and Red whimpered. He turned it back off quickly and Red muttered, “Fluorescent.”

Frank raised an incredulous eyebrow but walked over and squatted next to him. “Can I get you anything?” he whispered. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Red’s puffy eyes were closed and he stuttered through a few breaths. “Everythin’s so loud,” he slurred. “And everythin’ in this fuckin’ city smells like rot. I jus want it to stop.”

The kid sounded so pathetic. A tear slipped down Red’s cheek. Christ, if shit affected him this bad all the time, how did he ever learn to tune any of it out? Frank sighed.

“Alright,” he breathed. “Come on.” He pulled off his kevlar and climbed up onto the mattress to sit right next to Red. “Just listen to my heartbeat, yeah? You can do that, right?”

Red chewed his lip and nodded jerkily.

“Just focus on me and tune out everything else, okay?” He put his hand gently on Red’s neck and tugged him over to lay his head over Frank’s heart. Frank focused on breathing evenly.

Red pulled his hand away from his ear on Frank’s chest and pressed his face into him, relaxing slightly.

With the hand not resting on Red’s neck, he fumbled around for the go-bag next to the mattress and yanked out a clean t-shirt. At least it would smell like detergent and not sweat and rot. He pressed it against Red’s hand.

Red grabbed it and sniffed it once before seeming to decide it was fine and wadded it up between his hand and ear and draped a sleeve over his nose.

Frank huffed a laugh through his nose and Red flinched. Frank stroked the hair at the nape of his neck in apology. Seemed like he was in for a long boring night of being absolutely silent. 

They sat still and silent for an hour while Red clamped his hand over his ear and whimpered at every sound and some sounds that Frank couldn’t even hear. Frank couldn’t imagine what that must be like. There was definitely a small wet patch forming under Red’s face on his shirt. Poor kid.

After a while though, Red seemed to finally be able to relax from the rigid ball he’d curled himself into. He loosened enough to let his bent knees sag to rest on Frank’s thigh and he shifted some until his chest was pressed against Frank’s side like they were cuddling.

Frank stilled and wondered if it would be okay to move now until a door slammed in the building above them and Red flinched again. Frank settled in for a long night.

Another two hours, and Red’s hand dropped from where he’d been pressing the shirt over his ear as he finally fell asleep. Frank had to force himself not to sigh in relief. As it was, he waited another thirty minutes to make sure Red was really out and carefully dug his phone out of a pocket to text… someone.

He silenced the phone and scrolled through his contacts to finally settle on Jones in case Red needed to be carried home.

“Red’s had a bad night.” he sent her. “Can you or someone come get him?” He sent her the address and then fell asleep waiting on a response.

Foggy rung his hands as Jessica Jones kicked open the locked door to a basement room in a sketchy old building. They hadn’t been able to get Castle to answer his phone after Jessica woke up to his text and Foggy needed to know how bad a ‘bad night’ was coming from Frank Castle. He needed to know Matt was okay.

To Foggy’s immense relief, he did seem to be okay. When they burst into the room, Matt and Castle both startled awake where they were half propped up on a tiny mattress. Foggy didn’t see any blood or bandages anywhere; what he did see though, was Matt plastered up against the Punisher’s side cuddling him.

A half-delirious laugh escaped him and Matt perked up at hearing him.

“Oh my God,” Jessica said and slapped a hand over her mouth. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” she forced through her fingers.

Castle’s face went from sleepily confused to murderous in record time. “Shut the hell up, Jones,” he growled and gingerly picked Matt’s arm up from where it was resting around his middle.

Matt recoiled from him immediately and sat up and winced. “Ow,” he said and put a hand up to his head.

Jessica continued to try to stifle giggles so Foggy was the one to ask, “So are you guys okay? What happened?”

Matt frowned. “I’m not totally sure but I feel massively hungover.”

Castle huffed and stood. “Red got drugged,” he told Foggy. “Some kinda aerosol shit that made him so he couldn’t process sensory input right. And made him clingy,” he added resentfully.

Foggy squatted next to Matt. “You okay buddy?” he asked the same time Jessica said, “Nah, that’s just Murdock.”

Matt glared daggers in Jessica’s general direction. “Fuck off, Jones.”

Jessica ignored him. “Daredevil likes to cuddle,” she told Castle conspiratorially. Castle looked appalled.

Matt turned a pleading face on Foggy. “I don’t know what to tell you, buddy.” Foggy told him. “It’s true.”

Matt crossed his arms and looked thoroughly put out. “I’m leaving,” he announced sounding very pouty.

Foggy patted his arm. “Okay, buddy. Why don’t you change into these first,” he put a small bag into Matt’s hands, “so no one sees Daredevil walking down the street in the middle of the day, okay?”

Matt acquiesced with bad grace and started changing.

Castle shook his head. “I’m out,” he told them brusquely, grabbed his bag, and left.

Foggy waved at him, Jessica nodded, and Matt ignored him entirely.

“I think the Punisher secretly likes cuddling too,” Jessica told them apropos of nothing and Matt just groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading this fluffy nonsense. I really appreciate your kudos and comments.  
-k


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